


A Pretty Busy Place

by VaderzGirl



Series: At the Edge of Oblivious [2]
Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Drinking & Talking, F/M, Friendship, Other, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24246175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VaderzGirl/pseuds/VaderzGirl
Summary: Summary: Dezh gets a visitor. Or two."Gets pretty busy in your place then," Mason comments. "That reporter, the maa-alused leader…" He then throws me a smirk that says "me."Oh, Mason, you have no idea.
Relationships: Female Detective/Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles)
Series: At the Edge of Oblivious [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1771921
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	A Pretty Busy Place

**Author's Note:**

> Set after book 2, this isn't part of the "Interlude" series. Dezh and Falk hit it off, though, so I had to let them play. Hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> This one is technically for general audiences, but Dezh has a potty mouth, so I made it teen and above, to be safe.

Running a hand through her hair, Dezh flopped onto her sofa.  
Now that Tina was back from her training, she was full of questions about  
supernaturals, vampires, and Unit Bravo.  


  
And Mason.  
  
A slight smile came to her lips at the thought, despite trying to fight it. Still, talking about Mason was the last thing she wanted to do. Tina would try to convince her it was something more than it was, no doubt. The woman was like a dog with a bone when it came to certain things, especially things like _this_.  
  
Dezh snorted. Things like this? That was the kicker—it wasn’t a _thing_. It was nothing. _“Oh yeah, there’s a thing.”_ For some reason Maaka and Tane’s words rang in her head like some sort of obnoxious bell. For werewolves, they weren’t very perceptive, since they had obviously attributed Mason’s growl at them as a sign that he was jealous or something. The thought was ludicrous.  
  
Unless they had sensed it from _her_.  
  
Her features shifted into a frown so deep it was almost painful. Was that possible? The truth was, she had felt like she was at war with herself, and had ever since she’d agreed to Mason’s offer of “uncomplicated” fun. It was like the man had gravitational pull, directed right at her. Hell, she’d been tempted to go to the warehouse tonight after work. To see the team. To see _him_. Too tempted, if she were honest with herself.  
  
“Shit.” What the hell was wrong with her? _It’s just sex._ His words, not hers, but she had understood that truth from the first time he’d shown any interest. She was fine with that—he was hot and she was rarely attracted to anyone the way she was attracted to him.  
  
She scoffed at herself. Rarely? Try never. And at least he was honest, unlike Bobby and… no, she refused to think about _that_ one.  
  
The point was, Mason was honest. He’d told her, in no uncertain terms, that he wanted no-strings sex. And that’s what she had given him. She had known he’d be gone by the time she woke up, so that was no surprise. No, what surprised her was the fact that he’d wanted to do it _again_. Sure, the sex had been great— _better_ than great, more like mind-blowingly perfect—but he’d made it seem like, as soon as he was done, he’d be ready to move on to whoever was next. No doubt he already had his next target lined up.  
  
For all she knew, he was with that person right now.  
  
Every muscle in her body grew tight. Anger pulsed through her, though the cause was a mystery to her. She grunted, got to her feet, and started pacing her apartment. Well, it was hardly the first time she’d gotten pissed off for no apparent reason. Anger was fine, though. Easy enough to give an outlet, such as punching things until her knuckles were coated in blood. Much better than other, more worthless emotions.  
  
Her feet stopped moving and, in her mind’s eye, she remembered _that_ night. The night Sanja died. The night she completely lost it. In front of Mason, no less.  
  
Odd, that. She should feel more ashamed. Embarrassed. Not that he’d judged her. No, he had sat by her, comforting her with his touch, until she calmed and was ready to leave. Even now, she didn’t know what to make of that. It was weird.  
  
Shaking off the thought, she started pacing again. That wouldn’t happen again. Dezh did _not_ cry. That wasn’t her thing, hadn’t been since she was a scrawny little five-year-old with a heart of glass. Those days were gone for good. Yet, that night, for a brief moment, she’d wondered if it had all come back to haunt her. She’d felt completely overwhelmed, as though she were being buried alive. And all she could picture was Mason being beaten by those asshole Trappers, his panic obvious in the desperate attacks he made against them.  
  
A lump formed in her throat, but she swallowed it down and pushed away the image. Too much had happened lately that was out of her control. Her failure to save Sanja had just provided the breaking point, made worse by the fact that she had _liked_ the woman and had wanted to save her for reasons other than the sake of the mission. But as soon as she had seen Mason in pain—in _danger_ —there hadn’t been a choice. She saved _him_. And she’d do the same thing a million times over, missions be damned.  
  
How could she do otherwise? Again, that memory returned, of him backed in that corner, swinging wildly against his attackers. He’d been weak. Injured. Her hands curled into tight fists, nails cutting into the flesh of her palms. She wished she could forget it. Forget the way one of those bastards had shoved a prod under his chin, making him yell. Her chest constricted, making it difficult to breathe, and that same panicked feeling she’d felt at the time returned full force. “Shit,” she muttered, coming to a stop yet again. She had to stop thinking about it!  
  
The sound of a man clearing his throat made her spin and get into a fighting stance. When her gaze drifted to her mirror, however, she let out a soft breath. “Falk.”  
  
His lips lengthened and he tilted his head in question. “May I?”  
  
A soft snort escaped her before she could stop it and she relaxed. So different from the first time he’d come into her apartment. “Yeah.”  
  
He stepped through as though he owned the place, something Dezh had somehow gotten accustomed to. It seemed she had adapted quite a bit since meeting this strange man. “Detective Volkov, if you—”  
  
“Nadezhda,” she corrected. “Or Dezh. I think we’re past formalities, at this point.” Really, they were past formalities the moment he’d stepped into her bedroom that night, but she kept that to herself. Gesturing toward a chair, she cocked her head to one side. “Wanna sit?”  
  
“Thank you.” Without hesitation, he moved to the chair nearest the sofa. Once he was settled, and clearly comfortable, Dezh couldn’t help but stare in wonder. Somehow, he made the chair look like a throne. Was that some talent of his? Or was it the way he dressed? Much like the night he’d shown up in her bedroom, he wore a flowing tunic with some kind of fancy embroidery on the sleeves. Though this one was open in the front, exposing the contours of his chest. In her jogging shorts and tank top, she felt horribly underdressed. In more ways than one. When her eyes finally flicked up toward his, he found his gaze sliding down her body. “Your attire is…” His lips twitched.  
  
“I wasn’t expecting company,” she growled, flopping onto the sofa.  
  
“I will be sure to catch you unprepared in the future, then.”  
  
Contrary to his obvious teasing, there was something so predatory in his eyes that it nearly caused her to shift into fight mode. Only almost. But, for whatever reason, she trusted this man. His mild flirting was harmless. And kind of amusing. “You want a drink or something?”  
  
“No, thank you, Nadezhda. Tarmo said you asked for me.” As he spoke, his lips curled into a soft smile, his obsidian eyes shining in the dimly-lighted room. “Was there something you needed?”  
  
“I didn’t…” Trailing off, Dezh frowned. That had been days ago, and she hadn’t asked for the man! She’d simply asked _about_ him. “I just asked if you were doing well.”  
  
“Concerned for my well-being, were you?”  
  
His tone made her roll her eyes. “I suppose. I wanted to make sure you were okay, and that the Agency’s taking care of you and your people.” Before he could respond, she added, “And I wasn’t going to show up there, after we promised you wouldn’t be bothered by humans.”  
  
A smile played on his lips, as though he’d seen some hidden meaning behind her comment. “A visit from you would not be a bother. Consider this an open invitation to visit me anytime you wish.”  
  
Unable to fight a smile, she responded, “Good to know. So. Is everything all right? Any trouble?”  
  
His gaze fell on her with razor-sharp focus. Seconds ticked by without an answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was low. “Something is troubling you.”  
  
Her brow creased, and in an instant, her good humor shifted to annoyance. What the hell? “I thought you couldn’t read my mind,” she growled between clenched teeth.  
  
“I cannot, Nadezhda,” he said softly, “but your eyes—they express more than you realize.” When her brow knitted tightly, he merely smiled. “You do not believe me?”  
  
“That’s just not an accusation I’ve ever heard before.”  
  
Smiling, he shifted in the chair to turn his regard even more upon her. “Perhaps, no one has bothered to look closely enough. Or” –his lips curled further, causing his eyes to crinkle— “perhaps you frightened them into silence.”  
  
She barked a laugh at that. “So you’re immune, then?”  
  
“No,” he answered, his expression growing more serious, “I simply have no qualms about navigating a minefield to reach the treasure on the other side.”  
  
Her features twisted—partially in confusion and partially in undeniable shock—which only served to draw a gravelly laugh from the man. “Did you just call me a minefield?”  
  
“And a treasure,” he replied lightly, clearly amused with himself.  
  
Shaking her head, Dezh snorted. “I think a lot of people would argue against that point.”  
  
“Well, I am far more intelligent than most.”  
  
She laughed, the sound bubbling out of her gut and all the way up until her chest shook. “And so modest, on top of it.”  
  
“I prefer honesty to modesty,” he quipped. “Now, tell me what troubles you, and why you were so concerned that you asked about me several times in the past week.”  
  
Caught off guard by the last bit, Dezh didn’t even snap at the man’s bossiness. Several times? Had she really done that? Dammit. She _had_. No wonder he’d shown up tonight. “I dreamt of Sanja a few days ago,” she finally admitted, unable to meet his eyes. The memory of the fortune teller’s death was like a black cloud hovering over her, growing darker each day. It wasn’t the first time Dezh had had blood on her hands—whether through direct action or not—but this one haunted her.  
  
“You feel guilt.” Falk’s voice was like velvet sliding over her skin. Warm and smooth. She felt his gaze on her, felt him waiting for her to look at him. Once her eyes met his, he spoke again. “You should not. You did all that you could. We all know that.”  
  
A nice sentiment, but untrue. Dezh had made a choice that day to save Mason—to _protect_ Mason—rather than help Sanja. It was a choice she’d make a thousand times over, too, and she couldn’t regret choosing him. But her choice had resulted in a woman’s death, a good woman. Drawing in a sharp breath, she looked away from Falk. “If you could see into my mind, you’d give me that skin disease.”  
  
“No.” The harshness in his tone brought her gaze back to his. He looked… angry? Though, it was gone in a flash, replaced with his normal calm demeanor.  
  
“If one feels guilt, then they’re guilty,” she said, refusing to back down on this. “Is that not what the maa-alused believe?”  
  
His lips twitched ever so slightly. “And yet, you convinced me otherwise. Have you changed your mind? Do you now believe everyone who feels guilt has done something wrong and should be punished?”  
  
Dezh grunted. “Not everyone.”  
  
“Just you,” he clarified. “And you accuse _me_ of hubris?”  
  
Nothing like having your own logic thrown in your face. “Failure has never sat well with me, and failing someone I…” Her words faded into a grunt. “I regret not being able to save her, Falk.”  
  
“It is done.” When she opened her mouth to speak, he held up a long, pale finger. “You risked your life to save hers. I could not ask more of you. I would not.”  
  
Amazing that this was the same man who’d barged into the warehouse and accused her of betraying him. But apparently, if she was looking for someone to condemn her, she would have to look elsewhere.  
  
“Now, I have a question for you.” He waited for a moment, perhaps to see if she objected, before speaking again. “Why did you refrain from attacking me when I came to your bedroom that night?”  
  
Though Dezh opened her mouth to answer, she immediately closed it. No reason came to mind, not at first, anyway. “Instinct, I guess.”  
  
“Yet, typically, your first instinct is to fight, is it not? As you did to my people when they visited you?”  
  
“That’s different,” she explained. “They barged in here and were hostile. You… weren’t.”  
  
Falk chuckled, the rasping sound filling the air between them. His white hair fell over his right eye, but he made no effort to move it. “We have a connection, you and I. I believe you sense it as well.”  
  
Well. How the hell was she supposed to respond to that?  
  
Saving her from her struggle for words, Falk got to his feet and eyed the door. “I must go, Nadezhda.”  
  
“I…” Trailing off, she got to her feet and looked at the door. Was someone coming? “Okay.” She walked by his side to the mirror, then looked up at him. “You can come by again, if you want.” That she was actually inviting the bloody man to come back was a clear sign she’d lost her damned mind. “Can you give some warning before you just pop in, though? In case I’m running around naked or something.”  
  
He laughed at that, which made his hair bounce. “I believe I can manage that, though I cannot say I would complain if I caught you at such a time.”  
  
“You’re determined to make the neighbors talk, huh?” she asked, unsuccessfully fighting a teasing smirk.  
  
Instead of answering, he took a step closer. The man towered over her, especially when she wasn’t wearing her boots. _Déjà freaking vu_. “Any time you wish to see me, you may come. I do not consider you to be like other humans. Or any others.”  
  
Quite a compliment coming from a guy who seemed to dislike most people who weren’t his own. “Thank you, Falk. If—” A knock at the door drew her attention, and when she looked back to where Falk had been standing, he was already stepping through the mirror.  
  
“Be careful, Nadezhda.” And with that, he was gone.  
  
Shaking her head, Dezh made her way to the door and swung it open.  
  
“I have tequila!” Tina declared as she walked inside and headed for the kitchen.  
  
Dezh stood there a moment, then sighed and closed the door. It wasn’t the first time Tina had shown up, uninvited, with booze. And it wasn’t the last time, if she had to bet. Not that she normally complained about it. By the time she made it to the kitchen, the other woman already had the blender out. “I have combat training tomorrow, Tina.”  
  
“With the hot vampires?”  
  
Despite trying not to, Dezh barked a laugh. “Yes. Well, with Adam.” Who, she supposed, was pretty hot. Problem was, it was like calling your dad hot—it just felt weird.  
  
Not to be deterred, Tina just flashed her a grin. “You fight better after having a night of drinking, anyway.” When Dezh started to argue, the woman held up one hand. “Don’t even try denying it. Remember that self-defense class at the academy? You were still buzzed when we went to it, and you kicked everyone’s ass!”  
  
And _this_ was the problem with people knowing much about you—they always used it against you. “Fine.” Dezh hopped up on the counter and watched Tina while she pulled items from the shopping bags she’d brought. “You know, you don’t have to fill me with booze to get me to tell you more about this supernatural crap. I mean, you already _know_.” And Dezh had kind of pushed her into learning about it.  
  
“No, but I have to fill you with booze to get you to talk about _Mason_.” The way she sing-songed the vampire’s name almost made Dezh cringe. “Stop looking like that. You know you’ll tell me. But I’ll start easy before I make margaritas.”  
  
_Fuck_. When Tina said she was starting ‘easy’ it was never a good thing. Next thing Dezh knew, Tina was filling two shot glasses to the rim with tequila. Her eyes widened when she noticed the bottle. “You got Chinaco Añejo? Damn, woman, you went all out.”  
  
“Three bottles,” Tina clarified, shoving a shot glass into her hand. “I know how much you can drink.”  
  
As Dezh brought the shot glass to her lips, Tina grabbed her hand.  
  
“Nuh uh. We’re doing this the fun way.” The woman’s full lips curled into a grin. “With a nice game of ‘Never Have I Ever’ to start.” She didn’t give Dezh a chance to utter more than a single curse before sucker punching her with words. “Never have I ever had sex with a vampire.”  
  
Dezh stared at the shot glass. Then, at Tina. Resistance was futile, at this point. With all this tequila, Tina would get the answers she wanted. About this, anyway. Shrugging, Dezh turned the glass up and downed it in one gulp.  
  
The squeal that came out of the taller woman was enough to shatter Dezh’s eardrums. “I knew it! You’ve had that look like your world’s been totally rocked!” For more reasons than one, and not all as good, but that wasn’t a discussion Dezh would have with _anyone_ , no matter how much tequila they gave her. “I’m so happy for you! You finally found—”  
  
“Tina,” she interrupted. “It was just sex. No strings. He made that clear up front.”  
  
The woman’s bright expression dimmed, if only a bit. “Then he’s full of it. The way he looks at you isn’t—”  
  
“Stop.” Thankfully, Tina heeded the warning. “It just some uncomplicated fun.” Though she tried to affect the same, nonchalant tone Mason had had when he said the same words, she wasn’t certain she managed it. What she couldn’t figure out was _why_. “It means nothing, okay?”  
  
“Oh, Dezh.” The sympathy in her voice made Dezh tense. “It means something to _you_ , though. The way your eyes light up when—”  
  
“Tina, _stop_.” Tina was wrong—it meant nothing, and Dezh was fine with that. She _was_. Not that she didn’t want to do it again. She just wasn’t sure Mason did. Ugh, she didn’t need this shit. “Just make the goddamned drinks.” _And stop talking about Mason._  
  
The whir of the blender kept Tina from talking for a few scant moments. As she poured their margaritas into giant cups, however, she said softly, “Hey, you know I’m here if you ever need to talk, right?”  
  
Dezh’s tension eased, if only a bit. “Yeah,” she answered, the corners of her lips tugging up slightly. “I know.”  
  
“Good.” Tina took both cups and gestured to the other bags. “Grab the snacks so we can get this party started. I want to hear everything you’ve learned!”  
  
Drawing in a deep breath, Dezh watched the woman walk out of the kitchen before hopping off the counter and grabbing the food. And one of the unopened bottles of tequila. She had a feeling this was going to be a _very_ long night—all she could do was hope to be sober by the time she had to meet Adam for training. Otherwise, she knew she’d never hear the end of it.


End file.
